


Real Love is Displayed Everyday

by JDaydreamer



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDaydreamer/pseuds/JDaydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka Bering dislikes Valentine's Day, believing love, real love is displayed everyday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Love is Displayed Everyday

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a Valentine’s Day fic but as is usual for me, inspiration didn’t strike until the last minute so here is the story a little late.

Myka has read the same sentence for the last five minutes, glancing at her watch every thirty seconds. It’s almost eight o’clock, almost time for her to arrive. Seeing a streak of dark hair pass by the window Myka quickly drops her head, one hand absently toying with a curly strand of hair as she glances over the same sentence yet again, until she hears the bell chime over the door. She glances up then, adjusting her glasses as she meets Helena’s dark eyes, the same way she does every Sunday morning at just this time. 

Helena smiles, raising a hand in greeting and Myka can feel her face involuntarily answering that smile with a grin of her own, watching as she stands at the counter to place her order in that distinctive English accent. Every Sunday she orders the same tea (Earl Grey) but a different pastry.

Myka remembers the first time she saw her six weeks ago, or more accurately, six Sundays ago. She’d been waiting for coffee. 

Dinner with Pete and Kelly the night before had turned into hours of board games and before any of them were aware, it was midnight and Kelly insisted that Myka stay the night rather than drive back to her own place. The rainstorm and fatigue had made it easy to relent.

Myka had left their place early that Sunday morning, before coffee or breakfast. A decision she regretted almost immediately, as she found it difficult to keep her eyes open amid the dark, dreary morning. A sign for Leena’s Café caught her attention and recalling Pete mentioning the café on more than one occasion as having the best pastries around she decided to stop. Surely such an establishment would also serve very much needed coffee.

Having placed her order for a large Americano, Myka stood at the end of the counter, glancing over a discarded newspaper as she waited for her order to be filled. Her intention had been clear that morning. Obtain the desired cup of coffee to go and be on her way home - nothing life altering about it. That’s not what happened. Helena happened.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman had come into the little café as if brought in by the wind, hair wet from rain and cheeks rose-tinted from the cold and Myka had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life. She had been stunned by such beauty, almost paralyzed by it. Only the sharp call of her name being repeated for her coffee order and the dark-eyed woman’s curious gaze were enough to startle her from the daze. The woman smiled at her as though she knew the affect she had and Myka went weak in the knees at the sight, groping for a chair to fall into. And when the woman spoke with a devastatingly attractive English accent to place her own order for tea and a blueberry scone, Myka knew with certainty what attraction felt like. She was helpless to do anything more than stay rooted in her seat, trying to appear as if she were casually reading the paper between sips of coffee rather than staring at the woman. 

Myka stayed in the little café nearly an hour that morning, just watching the woman from afar as she tucked herself into the opposite corner at a small table, reading her own newspaper and enjoying her breakfast. 

Watching the woman leave the café that morning, Myka felt a pain in her chest at the likelihood she would never see the woman again – and that she had let her walk out the door without saying a word.

The drive home had been bleak that morning – not only for the weather.

Unable to get the woman out of her mind all week, Myka returned to Leena’s café the following Sunday morning in hopes that the woman might be a regular customer to the warm and cheery establishment. Myka ordered coffee again but also a small pastry. Coming prepared that morning, she brought a book with her and tried desperately to concentrate on the words on the page rather than the beats of her heart that quickened the moment the beautiful woman entered the café. Dark eyes scanned the room, finding Myka’s in a brief connection before glancing away to step to the counter. 

Again Myka watched and listened as the woman placed her order for Earl Grey tea and a chocolate-dipped croissant this time, listening carefully for the name she missed last week as her order was called out for her. It finally came a few impatient moments later; Helena. Settling in at the same table as the week before, Helena removed her coat, her eyes once again meeting Myka’s before dropping to the pages of her own book.

Myka lingered at the café an hour that morning, the pages of her own book hardly turning.

Every Sunday for three weeks, Myka sat at her usual table, coffee and pastry at the helm and book hardly touched as she waited anxiously for sight of Helena, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding at sight of her. For the first three weeks they exchanged soft smiles of recognition before inevitably turning their attention to reading, or in Myka’s case, the pretense of reading. 

The fourth week things changed; Helena spoke to her for the first time.

“What are you reading this week if I may ask?” she inquired with a smile on the way to her own table.

Myka had to glance at the book cover to answer and Helena had smiled at that too. “I’ve read that one,” she nodded approvingly at the title Myka stammered out. “Let me know what you think of the ending.”

Myka had gone home that morning and devoured the rest of the novel, waiting impatiently for Sunday to return.

The fifth Sunday Helena surprised Myka by joining her at her table for the first time. “What did you think of the ending?” she asked removing her coat and scarf before taking a sip of tea. 

“It was unexpected,” Myka admitted, unsure what surprised her more, the way Helena looked at her so intently, or that she sat just beside her, close enough to touch. 

***

 

“Ask the woman out, Mykes,” Pete advises her over another Saturday dinner with he and Kelly.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You obviously like her.”

“Yes, I like her and I have no idea how she feels about me.”

“She talks with you, doesn’t she? About books and stuff?”

“Mostly we talk books, yeah. Pete, you don’t understand, this woman is gorgeous and intelligent and breathtaking and most likely in a relationship with someone who can string together coherent sentences in her presence rather than babble incoherently which is all I seem to be able to do.”

“I still say if you like this woman as much as I know you do, just ask her out,” Pete says. “The worst that can happen is that she’d say no right?”

“No, the worst that would happen is that I’d make a complete fool of myself in front of her before she said no.”

“Okay, well if that happens, you don’t ever have to see her again. I mean, it’s not like Leena’s is anywhere near your neighborhood. You just stop going there and you’ll forget all about her.”

Myka laughs incredulously. “That’s impossible.”

“Then what’ve you got to lose? Next week is Valentine’s, so take a chance on love.”

“Ugh. I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s nothing but an excuse for…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, commercialization, you’ve told me before and I get it. But what you don’t get, Mykes, is that it’s also the one day of the year you’re allowed to act like a fool for love and it’s okay – encouraged even. Am I right, Kelly?” he asks as Kelly sets a plate of apple empanadas on the table for them. 

“Pete is right about this, Myka,” Kelly answers, “and you know that’s not a sentence I say lightly.”

“Hey!” Pete says, Myka laughing at his mocking offense.

“Last year Pete surprised me on Valentines by dressing as Cupid, complete with bow and arrow and little else,” Kelly grins at the memory.

“Okay, you know I love you both but that’s more information than I really need,” Myka protests.

“My point is, he looked like a fool, but he was my fool, willing to go all out to show me how much he loved me,” Kelly says dropping a kiss on Pete’s cheek.

Myka shakes her head. “I don’t think I could ever do something like that.”

“Maybe you won’t have to, Mykes,” Pete says. “I mean, you know me, I’ll do anything for a laugh. You’re not wired that way, so you’ll find some other way to show your love for someone. The point here is to give yourself that chance. Ask this woman…” he pauses trying to recall her name.

“Helena,” Myka supplies quietly.

“Ask Helena out on a date, Mykes.”

***

Myka curses Valentine’s Day again when she steps into the little café the following Sunday. The line is twice the normal length and the tables are littered with love-struck couples getting an early start to a day devised all for them.

When she finally steps up to the counter to place her usual order of coffee, Myka glances over the pastries behind the glass and quickly shoots Leena an annoyed look.

Leena just shrugs and smiles. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Myka. Love is in the air, can’t you feel it?”

Myka decides not to tell Leena all she is feeling, most notably irritation and anxiety, and orders a raspberry scone nonetheless and not because of the cute heart shape it is cut in, but because she truly does like scones. 

Her irritation fades slightly when pulling out her wallet to pay, Leena tells her, “Put your money away, Myka. Your order is already paid for,” she grins widely.

“Already paid for? By who?” she asks startled.

“Who do you think? Helena is waiting for you at your usual table,” she winks.

Myka turns sharply and yes, there among crowded tables sits Helena, dark eyes meeting hers all too briefly before darting away, then as if by magnetic pull, meeting Myka’s eyes again and holding her gaze as Myka approaches, slowly making her way through the throng of people. 

“You’re here early,” is the first thing that tumbles from Myka’s mouth and she silently berates herself it couldn’t be something more pleasant ‘like thank you for breakfast’ or even a simple ‘hello’.

Helena smirks at her. “Well, it is Valentine’s Day. I had a feeling our quiet little refuge may prove more crowded on this auspicious day and you see I was right.”

“Yeah,” Myka laughs looking around the busy café.

“Are you going to sit down?” Helena gestures to the chair next to her.

Myka nods, quickly pulling out the chair to sit in. “Thank you for breakfast by the way, but why did you pay for it?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Myka,” Helena says as though it’s a perfectly valid reason.

“So I’ve noticed,” Myka says looking around her with a shake of her head.

“You don’t care for Valentine’s, I gather,” Helena says eyeing Myka curiously.

Myka shrugs. “It’s a nice idea, but I don’t know, it just seems superficial to me.”

“How so?”

“It’s supposed to be a day to formally declare or express your love for someone. I don’t really get it. I just think love, real love doesn’t need its own day but should be displayed everyday. Love shouldn’t be about one day of making grand gestures, but the little ordinary things done everyday.”

“Such as?” Helena prods interestedly, resting her chin in her hand as she listens intently.

Feeling self-conscious under her gaze Myka falters. “I don’t know. Cooking together, washing and drying dishes, that sort of thing. Even something so mundane as setting the alarm clock to the correct time and getting each other up when you hit the snooze button one too many times,” she laughs. 

Helena laughs delightedly. “Yes, I quite agree with you. And it was a simple thing to pay for your breakfast this morning and I meant it as a way to express how much I’ve enjoyed our time together over the last several weeks.”

“I’ve enjoyed our time together too, Helena,” Myka confesses softly. Helena is still looking at her intently and Myka is at a loss what to say, Pete’s voice urging her to ‘ask the woman out’ echoing in her head. Instead of doing that however, Myka reaches for her coffee cup to take a sip at the same moment a man behind her pushes his chair away from the table to stand, colliding into Myka. The cup is knocked from her hands, spilling coffee onto Helena who gasps at the sensation of the heated liquid seeping onto her sweater. 

“Oh my god, Helena, I’m so sorry,” Myka apologizes, watching helplessly as Helena quickly removes the sweater revealing a simple tank top underneath. “Did you get burned?”

“No, no, I’m alright.” Seeing Myka’s worried face, Helena tries to set her at ease. “Really, Myka, if you wanted to get me out of my clothes, all you had to do was ask,” she quips. 

A blush burns Myka’s cheeks and she feels anything but ease at Helena’s words. “I really am so sorry, Helena. I’ll pay for your sweater to be dry-cleaned.”

“That’s not necessary, Myka, it wasn’t your fault. I saw that man knock into you – it was an accident.”

“Still, I want to make it up to you, especially after you were so sweet to pay for my breakfast.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day. I wanted to do something special for you,” she says eyes intent.

“You did?” Myka feels her breath catch at the intensity of those brown eyes looking at her.

“Yes,” Helena answers simply without further explanation.

“Then let me take you to dinner tonight to return the favor,” Myka rushes to say.

Helena’s eyes sparkle and a laugh tumbles from her lips. “I’d imagine it will be difficult to acquire a reservation on such short notice tonight,” she points out.

“Right, because it’s Valentine’s Day,” Myka nods.

“We could go to dinner another night…” Helena begins.

“I could cook dinner for you..” Myka starts.

“What?” they ask simultaneously and laugh nervously.

They’re silent for several heartbeats, each unsure what to say.

“I think I like your idea better, if the offer still stands that is,” Helena finally says, running a hand through her hair.

Myka watches the way her hair falls softly against her shoulders. “Yeah, the offer still stands,” she breathes out. She writes out her address on a slip of paper pushing it towards Helena who raises a brow at reading it.

“Will seven o’clock work for you?” Myka asks.

“Seven will be fine.”

“Any requests for dinner?”

“Anything you make will be fine,” Helena assures.

“Okay then, seven it is,” Myka says biting at her lip, wondering if what has just transpired is what she thinks it is; wondering if this is indeed a date or just a dinner between…whatever they are to each other…acquaintances…friends?

***

Myka is still wondering what exactly this dinner signifies as she turns the burner down to a simmer for the sauce and abandons the kitchen for her closet, searching for something suitable to wear. She could just stick with the slacks and sweater she is currently wearing, but if it’s a date, she really should wear something more befitting a date. She pulls a black dress from the back of her closet, a dress she bought months ago and has never had reason to wear until now. She debates with herself whether or not to actually wear the dress and with a huff of frustration finally slips it on. 

Myka is just beginning to contemplate shoes when she remembers the sauce she left to simmer over half an hour ago on a burner that she knows has a tendency to burn stronger than a simmer would ordinarily warrant. “Oh no,” she mutters, running barefooted to the kitchen, quickly removing the lid to look into the pan, revealing what she feared, burned sauce.

Myka is desperately contemplating what else she can cobble together for dinner when she hears a knock at her door.

“Well, that’s that,” she sighs defeated.

Myka is still barefooted when opens the door to let Helena inside.

Helena takes in Myka’s appearance, her perpetually curly hair, the brightness of her green eyes, the classic little black dress that reveals long, shapely legs and feet that are bare except for the magenta polish that adorn the nails. 

“Myka, you look beautiful,” Helena speaks mesmerized.

“Thanks, so do you, Helena,” Myka answers distractedly and Helena knows something is wrong since Myka doesn’t ask to take her coat.

Your house is lovely,” Helena says looking about the tidied living room, the bookshelves lining the walls, the various paintings hanging about, the cut flowers in a vase on the coffee table.

“It’s kind of a small place,” Myka shrugs, still distraught about the dinner plans.

“It’s intimate, cozy. I like that in a home. I also couldn’t help noticing that your house is a distance from Leena’s,” Helena remarks.

“Uh, yeah, I guess it is,” Myka says feeling a blush rise in her cheeks.

“So it’s not as if you’re just in the neighborhood when you go to Leena’s then is it?”

“Not exactly, no.”

Helena arches a brow in a silent request for an explanation.

Myka sighs. “My best friend, Pete and his girlfriend live near there, and seven weeks ago after staying the night at their place, Leena’s caught my attention and I stopped for coffee. When I stopped that morning, I had no intention of ever returning – it was just meant to be a quick stop, not the weekly habit it’s become.”

“Then why have you made it a weekly habit?” Helena asks.

“You,” Myka answers honestly.

“Me?”

Myka drops onto the sofa resignedly. “I was just waiting for coffee that morning. Just coffee and then I’d be on my way home, back to my dull but otherwise perfectly satisfactory life. And instead I saw you come into the café and…and I’ve never been so transfixed by anyone the way I was – _am_ by you,” she admits quietly. “And I can’t believe I’m telling you all this,” she adds embarrassed. 

“I’m glad you’re telling me all this,” Helena tells her. “I wish you’d go on and tell me what exactly is bothering you.” 

Myka looks into dark eyes, seeing sincerity reflected in their depths and she sighs in defeat. “I didn’t know whether tonight was meant to be just dinner between friends or a date and I debated too long what to wear and managed to burn the dinner I was preparing so now I don’t have any dinner to offer you,” Myka shakes her head despondently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Helena tells her sitting close beside her on the sofa. “Truthfully, I’m not terribly hungry anyway.” 

“That’s fortunate, since dinner is a loss,” Myka sighs again. “I really won’t be offended if you want to just leave, Helena, before this evening turns into a complete waste of your time.”

Helena slips her hand over Myka’s resting in her lap. “Myka, tonight is not a waste of my time,” she says adamantly.

Myka looks at their entwined fingers before looking up into Helena’s searching eyes. “It isn’t?”

Helena closes the space between them brushing her lips against Myka’s in a fervent kiss. Her lips still brush against Myka’s when they barely part moments later, Helena making certain she has the focus of green eyes before whispering against those lips, “Myka, I want to be here with you now. I wouldn’t have come here tonight if I didn’t, so there’s no need to think any of this is a waste of my time. And I have a confession to make to you as well.”

“What?” Myka asks unsteadily, unable to keep the worry out of her voice despite all that Helena just told her.

“I walked here tonight,” she says dark eyes alight.

“What?” Myka blinks confused at the unexpected statement. 

“I live just two streets over from here. I’ve been going to Leena’s the same time every Sunday morning in the hope that I would see you too.” 

Myka’s eyes widen at the admission. “You…you have?” she asks bewildered.

“Why is that so surprising to you? You captivated me from the first moment I saw you, the way you looked poring over that newspaper so intent and serious,” Helena smiles.

“I didn’t read a word of it once you appeared,” Myka says honestly.

“Oh, no?” Helena asks smiling.

“No,” Myka answers, pitching forward, hands reaching for Helena’s face to guide her into a heated kiss. Myka moans when Helena’s tongue touches hers for the first time and Helena sighs at the sensation of Myka’s fingers filtering through her hair. 

“You said something this morning,” Myka pants moments later as they part from the kiss but not each other. 

“I said several things this morning so you may have to elaborate on that thought, darling,” Helena sighs as Myka nips and sucks her way along the column of her throat.

“You said…if I wanted to get you out of your clothes…all I had to do was ask,” Myka says halting her ministrations to Helena’s throat in favor of biting her own lip bashfully. 

Helena feels her heart lurch at the endearing sight. “Oh yes, that,” she smirks. 

“Forget it,” Myka shakes her head, looking away. “I know it was meant to be taken as a joke…”

Helena reaches out to gently turn Myka’s head to face her again. “It was meant to keep you from apologizing over an accident you had no control over. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t mean it,” Helena answers earnestly, her hand cupping Myka’s cheek, her thumb tracing soft skin with tenderness.

“It’s probably too soon to ask…” Myka hesitates.

Helena leans forward, her lips touching Myka’s in the lightest of kisses. “Why don’t you start with this overcoat?” she husks.

Myka looks into Helena’s eyes, sees her encouraging smile and swallows hard. 

Her fingers tremble as she works each button carefully through the buttonholes of Helena’s overcoat, finally parting the coat. A gasp fall from her lips to see what Helena wears under the coat; a burgundy dress, the neckline plunging to reveal perfect skin.

“If you haven’t realized by now, it was my hope that tonight was a date,” Helena whispers against Myka’s ear.

Myka kisses her again, this kiss long and unhurried, Myka committing to memory the feel of Helena’s soft lips as they part under hers, the way her tongue slowly strokes into her mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Myka slips her hands under Helena’s coat, guiding it off slim shoulders, her fingers exploring the bare skin of those shoulders, the way they fit easily in the palm of her hand and she sighs contentedly at the contact.

“While I don’t mind if we continue this on your sofa, I can’t help feeling your bed would be a more appropriate location for this…for what I’d like to do with you,” Helena husks, licking at her lips.

“Bed?” Myka murmurs as if not quite comprehending the meaning of the word, her eyes on Helena’s lips and her mind solely focused their kissing.

“Yes, Myka, bed please,” Helena implores as she rises from the sofa, pulling Myka up with her.

“Right, I have a bed,” Myka nods leading Helena down a short hallway to her bedroom.

The women stop at the doorway of the small bedroom, Myka tightening her hold of Helena’s hand as though she doesn’t know how they should proceed. A careful look at Myka’s face reveals uncertainty in green eyes. Helena glances around the room, taking in the small bookshelf along one wall, the queen-sized bed neatly made and a nightstand with various objects resting atop it; a lamp, a book of course, her reading glasses and one more object. 

Helena lets go of Myka’s hand to step into the bedroom, making her way to the nightstand and picking up that object. She knows that she wants this night to be more than one night. She wants this one night with Myka to become a lifetime of nights and days spent together. It may be too soon to say the words aloud, but she feels them nonetheless and she can express to Myka what she feels in other ways. 

Helena sits down on the edge of the bed turning the little alarm clock over in her hands before glancing at Myka who stands still in the doorway watching her. “What time should I set your alarm to wake you in the morning?” Helena asks.

Myka feels her heart expand within her chest at the question, recalling their brief discussion that morning, and a laugh bubbles from her throat. She strides to Helena’s side, gently pulling her up to stand, her arms encircling Helena’s waist. “I don’t have work tomorrow for the holiday, so I don’t have to be anywhere in the morning.”

“Oh yes you do,” Helena counters. “You’ll be in my arms in the morning, all day if I have my way.”

Myka laughs again. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she insists, punctuating her words with a heady kiss. Myka doesn’t say the words she feels then, but she shows Helena how she feels over and over again as seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn to hours. 

Much later, in the middle of the night, the words are said. 

Having worked up an appetite, both women are in Myka’s kitchen at three in the morning, standing at the stove side by side fixing something to eat. Myka works over a skillet, making grilled cheese sandwiches. She glances at Helena just a hair’s breadth away as she heats up cream of chicken soup, the only canned soup Myka had left in her cabinet. Helena stirs the soup methodically, making sure it doesn’t meet the same fate as the sauce Myka attempted earlier in the evening. Her gaze lingers on Helena, taking in the tousled hair from Myka’s fingers running through it and the button-down blue shirt Helena procured from Myka’s closet. A shirt that only reaches the top of Helena’s thighs and hangs loose on her slightly smaller frame. A shirt that only stays closed by one well-placed button. A button that wouldn’t take much at all to undo. Myka deliberates abandoning the grilled cheese sandwiches in favor of giving her attention to that button when Helena interrupts her thoughts trying to stifle a yawn. 

“Tired?” Myka smiles at her.

“Mmm. _Someone_ has kept me up all night,” Helena says turning to kiss Myka’s neck before resting her head on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Myka apologizes. “We can go to sleep after we eat.”

“I’m not complaining, darling, far from it actually. You are quite delectable, you know,” she says, lifting her head from Myka’s shoulder place a lingering kiss against soft lips.

With the hand not holding a spatula, Myka pulls Helena closer to her, deepening their kiss to such a degree when they part they both have to catch their breath.

“Careful, Myka, if you keep this up, we’re going burn dinner, again,” Helena says wryly. 

Myka looks into dark brown eyes, her fingertips gently tracing the delicate planes of Helena’s face, etching to memory the loveliness of her eyes, the softness of her lips. Myka feels tears spring to her eyes at how beautiful Helena is and how much she feels for her.

“Myka?” Helena asks concerned seeing her tears. “What is it?”

Myka laughs at herself. Is it possible to feel…love of this magnitude so soon? Is it too soon to say the words aloud that are begging to be said? Are there rules about when it’s an appropriate length to time to say them? If there are, Myka is changing the rules this very moment. She knows what she feels for Helena is love, it couldn’t be anything else, why wait to tell her so?

“Myka?” Helena prods gently, her eyes expressing concern.

“I love you, Helena,” the words tumble forth from Myka’s lips without restraint. In the brief silence that follows, Myka worries she has ruined the moment, ruined everything speaking the words so soon. Then as the words wash over Helena her expression of concern gives way to elation. 

“Myka…Myka, I love you too,” she says capturing Myka’s lips in a passionate kiss, a kiss that intensifies as the seconds tick by. A kiss they would pursue for an indeterminate amount of time if not for the smell of something burning. “Oh, Myka!” Helena cries, pulling away, “The soup is burning!”

Myka quickly turns off the burners on the stove. “Yeah, the sandwiches didn’t fare any better,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ll start over,” she says intending to make new sandwiches.

Helena halts her progress with a hand along her arm. “Never mind about the food. Let’s go back to bed.”

Myka raises a brow. “You’re not hungry anymore?”

“Not for food, no. For you,” Helena says lowly, pulling Myka by the hand to lead her out of the kitchen.

Myka makes sure to snap off the kitchen light on their way out. The dirtied pots and pans can wait. She and Helena will eventually get around to washing and drying them together tomorrow.

But first they’ll go to Leena’s for breakfast.


End file.
